


Trouble Sleeping

by InchByInch



Category: Homeland
Genre: F/M, Prompt Fill, Summer Heat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-26
Updated: 2017-06-26
Packaged: 2018-11-19 06:05:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11307264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InchByInch/pseuds/InchByInch
Summary: In this AU, Keane lost the election after a photography student took a picture of her looking weird while eating a burrito.





	Trouble Sleeping

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gnomecat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gnomecat/gifts).



> Thanks for the prompt, @GnomeCat!

  
“Quinn? You awake?” Carrie whispered into the darkness of his basement bedroom. She’d bet anything he’d been listening to them come all the way down two floors, but he wasn’t going to make this easy for her.

“Peeeeterrr!” Franny’s excitement got him sitting up in a flash.

“H-hello, Franny.”

“Hey, Quinn, it’s really hot upstairs,” Carrie suddenly felt like an idiot. What was she expecting?

“Been h-hot all day.”

“But Mommy said it would be cooler down in the basement, and it is!”

“That’s because heat rises, Franny-Girl.”

“Quinn…” Carrie tried again, but she was interrupted by Quinn’s chuckles.

“W-why don’t you two sleep here and I’ll take the couch?”

“No.”

“No?”

“No. The couch isn’t long enough for you, and this is the only spot in the house that is cool enough to be bearable.”

“I thought that’s why you came h-here.”

“It is!” exclaimed Franny. She scrambled onto the bed and under the covers next to Quinn.

“I'm not going to kick you out of your bed, I want you to be comfortable and sleep well, too.” Carrie was surprised to realize she was telling him the truth. “We can all fit.”

She quickly crawled in next to Franny.

“Carrie…”

“No, really, Quinn, I want you to get some sleep in this heat. There is enough room for all of us.” She thought again how she actually meant it, she wasn’t feeling guilt or pity, and she wasn’t trying to manipulate him. She genuinely wanted him to feel happy, to be comfortable and get some rest. “Good night.”

She would have to examine those feelings more thoroughly in the morning. Right now she felt too sleepy, finally cool and relaxed after the oppressive day. 

 

  
His eyes shot open in a panic, made worse by the fact he couldn’t find his gun with his right hand and he couldn’t seem to move his left hand at all. Then came the familiar revelations: “Thank fuck. I'm safe in Carrie’s basement. Everything is OK,” and, simultaneously, “Fuck, I can’t talk, run, or use both hands. Nothing will be OK again.” These twin realizations always followed his nightmares, but something was different tonight -- he hadn’t been dreaming.

Shit. He’d been awakened by something real, from outside his head. He sat up, wide awake, but all seemed well. The temperature had cooled off; both Carrie and Franny were sound asleep right next to him.

“Noo,” Carrie moaned. Her face was twisted in a frightened expression. Well, fuck, what did he think, he was the only one who had nightmares? He smiled at that thought and lay back down on his left side so that his right arm could reach over to touch her shoulder. Still sleeping, Carrie rolled towards him so that Franny, who had been curled on top of Carrie’s chest, slid to rest half atop Quinn’s chest and half on her mother. Sweet girl. She still smelled like a baby, even though she was almost five years old. Quinn stroked Carrie’s hair and whispered: “Shhh, you’re OK, you’re safe with me.” Carrie didn’t wake up, but she responded in her sleep by sighing happily and softly saying his name, “Quinn.” That made Quinn smile even more, as he lay in the dim stillness, just thinking.

He did that. He made Carrie’s fear turn to happiness with a touch and a few words. God, it felt good to DO something that mattered, even just this tiny thing for Carrie. That was weird, because of all the fucked-up things about his life, his inability to do anything for her was the worst. He lived off her like a leech, physically and mentally unable to provide and protect as he would like.

But right at this moment, he did have what Carrie and Franny had needed, crazy as that seemed. Even as fucked up mentally and physically as he was, he could help them overcome muggy weather and anxious dreams. The thought made him strangely happy. Maybe those were the threats that mattered, here in Brooklyn. God, he was tired. Quinn made a note to himself that he would have to examine these thoughts more thoroughly in the morning.

 

  
Franny opened her eyes and realized with a thrill that she was in the basement, in bed with Mommy and Peter, and they were all curled up together.

“Hey! It’s morning! We had a slumbering party last night!”

Neither adult responded as quickly or as positively to that announcement as she had expected.

“You were right, Mommy, the basement really was cooler.”

“Mmpf.” Mommy always talked like that when she woke up, but Franny thought she’d say something about how neat it was that they all slept together _in the basement!_

“Yeah, the basement is always the coolest, Franny. You can come down and visit anytime.”

“Yes! We all slept really well because we’re happy to be together. Like a real family – Mommy and I fell right asleep, because we were so happy to be with Peter, and you were happy too, Peter, because we were here with you. Hey, what’s for breakfast?”

…

“Hey! Guys! I said what’s for breakfast! Why are you both just looking at each other? Can’t you talk? Come on!

 


End file.
